


The Girl Who Waited

by legallyblack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I Love Ginny, Poor Girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legallyblack/pseuds/legallyblack
Summary: Ginny, despite popular belief, spent very little of her 6th year pining for Harry.Oneshot/Canon Compl.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	The Girl Who Waited

In the weeks, months, and even years following the war, the tabloids and reporters would refer to her as “The Girl Who Waited”. She’d smile wanely and speak, with measured tone, about her schoolgirl crush on Harry, and how she’d spent her 6th year at Hogwarts waiting patiently by the door for his arrival. Harry had never quite understood why she did this, instead of firing back with the truth. To this, she would respond the same way every time: It was what she wanted them to hear.

  
  


She’d accepted her role as the younger sister quite early on. The odd one out, the only girl in her family, the youngest, the non-member of the Golden Trio. She’d grown up listening to Ron’s stories of his times with Harry and Hermione, as though they were fairytales. Every night, she would look up at the stars and wish for a group of friends as close as them. 

Her Mum had offered to get her help exactly once after the diary incident. It was in the frenzied haze of packing for Egypt, and her mother had dropped the clothes she was washing into a pile, turning to her. “Ginny dear, do you want to see someone about what happened? We could budget some money out of our trip to go see a healer?”

Ginny looked around the living room, where her brothers were chatting happily, piles upon piles of clothes messily tucked into trunks, an air of excitement. She thought about it for one moment before shaking her head. “I’m ok, Mum.”

And from that moment on, nobody ever asked Ginny whether she was ok.

Nobody except  _ him. _ His jet black hair and green eyes pierced through her heart every time she looked at him. The boy who, despite everything that had happened to him, still found a way to check in on her. After all, he’d been the one to truly see her in that state, down in the Chamber. So close to death that she herself hadn’t seen a possibility of getting out of there. 

He kisses Cho Chang and her heart breaks all over again.

She’d been so excited about being included in Dumbledore’s Army that she had momentarily forgotten about her crush. She was getting pretty good at blowing things up, and with everyone she loved in one room, it was hard to be sad.

Harry starts hearing Voldemort in his head again, and when she tries to help him, he pushes her away. It’s then that she spitefully reminds him that  _ she knows what it’s like _ . The guilt on his face doesn’t make her feel any better. She wants to forget, not be pitied. 

She takes Hermione’s advice and tries to move on. Dean is nice, and he’s a good listener, but he’s not  _ Harry. _ She lives in her domestic bliss, and painfully tries to be a teenager again, because if Harry can do it, why can’t she? It isn’t until Dean confronts her late one night about her feelings, that she realizes she hasn’t really moved on after all.

Harry kisses her and for a moment it feels as though all sadness is gone from the world. The next few months are pure bliss, and later, she’ll see them as the calm before the storm. Dumbledore dies and it all comes crashing down. She walks away from Harry before he can see her cry. She understood why he had to end things, but it didn’t make anything easier. Hermione and Ron were so painfully, obviously in love with each other, though neither were brave enough to gather the courage and say it. After all, this was  _ Ron _ . Hermione may be his best friend, but Ginny was his sister.

Watching them finally make progress after so many years of back and forth drove the knife farther into her heart. Why couldn’t she have what they had? That feeling of being wanted? Of being  _ included. _ How she desperately wanted to be in on Harry’s plans, instead of craning her neck from the sidelines to catch whatever she could. 

The trio makes plans to leave and she already knows she can’t come along.

She gets her Hogwarts letter in July and she’s been made a 6th year prefect. She tosses the letter in the rubbish bin. 

Bill and Fleur’s wedding comes along and she feels pretty. She watches Harry, in his disguise, and seriously contemplates asking him to dance. Before she can, the patronus interrupts the celebration.

She’s fighting a Death Eater with Fred, and for a split second she turns around. She wishes she hadn’t. She sees the three of them, twisting through the air in almost slow motion, and then out of sight. She feels utterly betrayed, though she knew this was going to happen. 

She never got to say goodbye.

She sits next to Neville and Luna on the ride to Hogwarts. Nobody says a word. She keeps looking up at the cabin door, half expecting Harry, Ron, or Hermione to come bounding in, to laugh and say it was all a joke. That Voldemort is dead and they can all live happily ever after. 

  
  


It’s November and she is unrecognizable. Her once vibrant hair is now a dull rust color. Her cheeks sunken in, bruises and cuts marring her skin. The Carrows have no qualms with starving and torturing kids. For the first time in a decade, she’s the only Weasley at Hogwarts, and it terrifies her. There’s no Fred and George to prank people with when she needs to be distracted. There’s no Ron to talk to or practice Quidditch with. There’s no Percy to give her unsolicited advice when she most needs it. She feels completely alone. 

She and Neville start up the DA again. A surprisingly large number of kids rejoin, and for the first time that she can remember, she’s the leader. They look to  _ her _ for guidance and help. Not Harry, not Hermione, not even Ron. Her. And she welcomes it, because it’s a distraction. A distraction from the fact that she hasn’t eaten a full meal in 6 days, from the fact that she was hit with the Cruciatus curse in History of Magic class for mentioning muggle electronics. A distraction from the cold, hard truth; that Harry left her behind. 

She takes it upon herself to keep the school she knows he loves so much safe. 

She, Neville, and Luna try to steal Gryffindor’s sword from Snape’s office. Harry’s need for the sword was one of few things she actually knew about his mission. They’re caught, and when she’s told that her punishment is to be served in the Forbidden Forst with Hagrid, she cries tears of joy. For those 4 hours at night she gets to pretend that she’s 13 again. She’s going to the Quidditch World Cup with her family and everything is good. 

The last letter she’d recieved from either of her parents was a month ago.

The night before she’s set to go home for Christmas, she sneaks into the boy’s dormitory. Neville’s already asleep; Lord knows he needs it. Seamus, she notices, is sleeping in Dean’s old bed. Her stomach drops as it dawns on her that two of her ex boyfriends are currently missing, unheard from for months. She crawls into Harry’s bed, feeling something under the pillow. Reaching underneath, she freezes. A pair of his glasses. Left behind, most likely in his haste to pack for the summer. 

She sobs into his pillow, shaking with guilt, rage, fear, and every other emotion she’d been forced to repress in the Godforsaken school. Neville is there, rubbing her back and mumbling comforting words that they both know are useless. She doesn’t sleep that night.

  
  


When she enters the Burrow on Christmas Eve, she wants to step right back out. Her Mum’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and the twins seem as though their thoughts are someplace else. The air feels stagnant and suffocating, and she seriously considers illegally disapparating anywhere else. But it’s a risky decision, and her family can’t deal with more stress.

Christmas dinner is a lonely affair. It’s just the twins, her parents, and her. Percy’s invitation home had been swiftly returned by Errol. Her mother didn’t even cry this time, just placed the letter in the junk drawer before locking herself in her bedroom.

At the dinner table, she’s bombarded with questions about Hogwarts. She takes one look at her family’s faces before forcing herself to smile and lie through her teeth. “School’s fine, Dad. A bit dull because of Snape, but it’s still Hogwarts.”

Fred makes a joke about Umbridge, and how the school couldn’t possibly be worse than when she was leading it. Ginny’s fork clatters down on her plate as she excuses herself to the bathroom. She pulls up her sleeves and winces at a particularly deep cut granted by Amycus Carrow. Someone knocks on the door, and she opens it, expecting it to be her Mum. It’s Fred. He looks at her arm, eyes widening before whispering “I’m so sorry.”

Part of her wants to let him tell their Mum. To let their mother worry over her and forbid her from going back to that now awful place. But she knows she has to go. She has to keep fighting.

When she gets back to school, Luna is gone. She and Neville allow themselves twenty minutes of weeping for their lost friend before wiping their tears and moving on. As she graffities “Dumbledore’s Army, Still Recruiting” onto the wall, she wonders how she let herself become so heartless. 

The Room of Requirement becomes her refuge. It’s transformed into a sort of hostel, where she and other kids could stay to train, study, eat, or cry. It was safe, and that’s all that matters.

But outside of those walls, she has to face the Carrows. Her resolve starts to crack after the thirty-fifth detention. By March, she truly doesn’t think Harry’s ever coming back.

She comes home again for the Easter Holidays, and things haven’t changed much. The day before she’s supposed to go back. Bill apparates into their living room. She misses most of what he says out of shock, but she does catch a few important details.  _ Harry’s alive. They’re alive. _ But Bill doesn’t stop there. They have to leave. Evacuate the Burrow. The Death Eaters know that Ron is traveling with Harry.

She’s given five minutes to pack. She can’t return to Hogwarts.

They go to Aunt Muriel’s where there isn’t much to do but play with stones. She feels useless as she sits on the old comforter in the guest bedroom.  _ Harry, Ron, and Hermione are out there. _ She wants to be with them. She wanted her friends back. Her nights are filled with worry for Luna, guilt for leaving Neville alone, and a mixture of relief, fear, and annoyance for the Golden Trio. The war brews around them, and she knows it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be back in action. It’s not anytime soon.

So she waits.

Her parents are on the porch when she feels the coin in her pocket burn. Her eyes water and her knees weaken as she reads the words engrained neatly into the DA Galleon. 

_ “Lightning has struck.” _

It’s nearly 9 o’clock at night, but she doesn’t care. She isn’t staying behind this time. Scribbling a note to her parents and praying that they’ll understand, she grabs her wand. She wakes the twins and lets them know what’s happening. Within three minutes, the three of them stand just outside the barrier of protective enchantments surrounding the house. George looks at her, a solemn smile on his lips. With a spin into darkness, they’re off.

  
  


She sees him before he sees her, and for a few seconds, she stares at him. It’s been nearly nine months, and he hasn’t changed a bit. She’s so used to seeing him covered in blood that the insurmountable amount of burns and wounds on his body don’t immediately register. Ron and Hermione stand right next to him, looking equally as worn. 

She breathes his name, and forces herself not to cry. Not now, not in front of everyone. 

He’s begging her to stay in the Room of Requirement, and she hates him for it. Because she knows that she has to. Her parents order her to stay put. She’s underage. Not that it should matter, because she’s gone through more in the past year than any 16 year old should ever have to. She watches the trio run away yet again, without her.

At some point she leaves the room. She fights. Fights  _ hard _ . Jinx after jinx, curse after curse, her voice is hoarse from yelling. 

The battle ceases for an hour, and she makes her way back to the Great Hall. 

Fred is dead.

And she can’t comprehend it. So she sits on the ground and cries. Like a child, she yearns for her father to hold her and tell her it will all be ok. Because never in a million years would she have imagined losing one of the twins. She wants to turn the world off and grieve, but she can’t. Not even half an hour later does she hear the snake-like voice of Voldemort booming across the courtyard.

She sees  _ his _ body and screams. She screams as her father tries to hold her back. She’s restrained, but her eyes are fixated on the limp body of the boy she loves, at the feet of the monster she wants to kill with her bare hands. 

She never got to tell him that she loved him.

She never got to tell him that she loved him.

She never got to tell him that she loved him.

She waited too damn long.

  
  


It was all for nothing. The past year, Merlin, the past 6 years. Nothing. Because Harry Potter was dead. And she wasn’t. 

She wishes she were.

And then the world erupts once more, and in the heat of the chaos, Harry’s body is nowhere to be seen. Her heart flutters with hope, but she knows too well by now that hope only makes for a harsher reality.

She’s fighting Bellatrix with Luna and Hermione, and she feels, more than sees, the green curse misses her by an inch. She looks at Hermione in fear, before her mother comes to her rescue.

  
  


And then Bellatrix is dead. And the cloak is ripped off and Harry is standing there, very much alive, and she thinks she might faint.

…

He saves the world because of course, he does. She pushed her way through the crowd of admirers, just to get a look at his face. He locks eyes with her and mouths, “Later. I promise.”

And for the first time, she knows he means it. There were things he had to do first, and she understood.

  
Besides,  _ she could wait. _


End file.
